Three Lives, Three Problems, One Goal
by Girsalias
Summary: Overall a dark story including Ginny, Hermione, and Draco. Post Hogwarts. Many themes not suitable for young or immature eyes. Includes cutting,eating disorders, sexuality, and many others. Full warning inside. **will not be continued - see AN**
1. Prolouge

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.  
Rated M for mature. Content includes: Anorexia/bulimia, homosexuality, sex/porn, overall themes of addiction, language, rape, self-injury, references to other damaging behaviors, references to the body using both technical and slang terms, and just an overall dark story not suitable for young eyes. takes a deep breath  
Note: I know there are a lot of stories that use this general theme, but I couldn't resist. It just made sense, as that was how the story came to me. I'm not going to change it, or make this any lighter. Don't like it, don't read it. Plain and simple. Please comment, cause they make me want to get the next part out.

So, without further ado, 

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Three Lives, Three Problems, One Goal

Part One: Prologue and Introduction

I stood there in front of the toilet, my porcelain goddess. I knew what I had to do. I knew the consequences of my actions earlier. After a deep breath and a tall glass of water, I placed my finger down my throat, begging for it to happen on the first try. Thank goodness it did, because I hate that part. I felt everything coming back, the cookies, the ice cream, the pizza...all of it. Each retch provided a bit of comfort, I knew I wouldn't gain that pound I've worked so hard to lose. After I see the orange jello, my "marker food" as we call it, I knew it was gone. All of the grotesque, horrible, fattening food was gone. I stepped on the scale, 91 pounds on my 5'2" frame. Still not good enough. Still not thin enough. Reweigh, remeasure, try harder. Fasting tomorrow, refuse the binge. I'm a proud 82 now…but I'll make it to 70, you'll see. Wait and see.

My name is Ginny Weasley, and I have an Eating Disorder.

I stood in front of the sink, towel and blade in hand. I tried to look in my eyes. Tried to see myself in them. I couldn't… I didn't even recognize myself. So there I sat on the bathroom floor, placed the towel on my crossed knees and my arm upon that. I took the blade and drug it across my pale arm. Over and over I willed out my crimson tears, each swipe of the blade transformed the emotional pain into physical. I mindlessly cut, only sensing how deep I went. Slowly I came back from my Cutter's High, saw the strawberry gashes lacing my arm. 52…52 cuts in all. I washed the wounds, placed a antibacterial on them, and bandaged them up the best I could. Yesterday I counted my scars. 1013. I hope to add more soon.

My name is Draco Malfoy, and I Self-Injure.

I slipped into this tight little miniskirt, it was pleated and black and hit right below my vagina. I found my best corset, emerald green with silver accents. My breasts always looked the best in it. My boots were leather, thigh high with corset lacing in the back. I was looking good. I tucked a box worth the condoms in my purse and walked out the door. I drove to my first shoot, some little porn flick that I can never remember the name of. All I remember is a threesome I enjoyed immensely with a stacked blonde who oozed sexy and a very hot dark-haired guy who filled out his boxers well. I got paid good money for that, thousands. Then it was out to the Lounge, making my rounds to my usual guys. 25 loyal customers every night, plus their guests. I'd do anything for sex. Anything.

My name is Hermione Granger, and I am a Sex Addict, among other things.

Three people. Three problems. Three addictions. One goal to bring them closer than they ever thought.


	2. September the Sixth

YEY ANGST! Woot! Ooook, anyways. Wow, it took forever to write this first chapter. After numerous very poor jobs at trying to figure out a story format and the entire idea almost being scrapped, I finally found inspiration (one very angsty night). I settled on journals, because everyone loves journals. Ooook, so maybe not everyone. Needless to say, if you're seriously opposed to journals, there's no need to read. I'm not going to promise the next chapter at all, let alone have a set time for you. Just keep an eye out. There more than likely will be the next journal within the month, but i can't promise anything. So, without further ado - Three Problems, Three Lives, One Goal

_I want to hold you high and steal your pain away._

The Recovery Journal of Draco Malfoy  
September 6

I can't believe it came to this. I've just finished admission to Allwyth Addiction and Rehabilitation Center. I'm in fucking rehab. My room is just big enough to fit a twin bed, a dresser, and a bed table with a bit of walking room in it. There is no door, only a thin curtain so it's easier to check in on us. I'm located in MW2, which means Men's Wing 2. From what I've been told it's a wing for self-harmers (suicide attempts, self-injurers, and eating disorders). MW1 is for people who've mental issues (depression, anxiety, and shit like that). MW3 is for druggies. They told me I was rushed to the hospital after my mother found me on the floor bleeding pretty bad. I lost a lot of blood, which is why I don't remember shit from that night. Apparently they think I'd attempted suicide. I think they're fucking nutters. I've got bandages running the length of both forearms and all over my legs, which means I fucked myself up pretty bad. Did I try to kill myself? I really don't think so. I probably just cut too deep. It happens. I don't have to be here, but mom thinks it best if I "stay here and talk to someone about why I'm so sad". I don't need to talk to anyone. I just need my blade, a few things of gauze and Ace bandages, and some antiseptic and I'll be good. I'm almost 20; I can take care of myself.

I've had a round of individual therapy already. Just them telling me how they're here to help and shit like that. Then I filled out a "mental health assessment". What a fucking joy, now they can rate me on how fucked up I am. Apparently I'm supposed to be answering the questions off a sheet they shoved in my hand when I walked out in this journal. At least they aren't too personal now, but I have a feeling as my time here progresses I'll have to tell them "everything". Group therapy tomorrow. They think I should get to meet everyone in my ward classification. At least I'll get to meet the girls here.

Rules at Allwyth:

You are only allowed to talk with patients of the opposite sex during group therapy. Anything other than "Hello" during the day will result in dismissal.

No drugs or alcohol are permitted at any time. Cigarettes are, however, exempt from this rule. Note that they are only allowed on the smoking porch.  
Razors, knives, box cutters, all pins, and other items that may be used to harm oneself or another person are prohibited. A complete list of these items can be found posted at the front desk.

All baggage will be searched. Mail, gifts, and phone calls will be monitored. Please understand that Allwyth staff reserves the right to search anything that will be given to patients.

There's a shit load more, but I don't feel like writing them out. We were supposed to list a few to show we read through the pamphlet. But I'm sure you get the idea, whoever I'm writing to. In fact, you're probably some therapist who'll grill me on my answers later. To that, I'd like to say a big fuck you. You'll probably interpret these wrong anyways, trying to find some hidden meaning and sob story.

Here's those questions you want answered, I'm sick of writing.

1) Do you think you have control over your self-injury?

Yeah, I do it when I want. I go as deep as I want, as many times as I want. I can put down my blade and walk away after one just the same as after one hundred.

2) Is this your first suicide attempt?

Let's get one thing straight; I didn't try to kill myself. Never have, never wanted to. I cut. There's a big difference between suicide and cutting. Dumbasses.

3) Do you have a ritual or routine when you SI?

No, I just do it. Just grab the shit I need and cut. Plain and simple.

4) Are you willing to dedicate to recovery?

Sure

There, I answered your little questions. Happy?

* * *

_Yeh, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil._

The Recovery Journal of Ginny Weasly

September 6

I checked into Allwyth Rehabilitation Center today. I need to get better, they say. This will be good for me, they say. I need this to save my life, they say. For the record, this isn't my choice. I don't need to be here. I need to be at my home, losing more weight. 70 pounds isn't good enough. But I needed to stop my parent's prying, so here I am. Oh joy. I'm expected to use this journal as a therapy aid, answering their "homework" questions. Here goes…

1. What is your eating disorder?

Anorexia, with mild bulimic behaviors. I restrict and starve for the most part, but when I screw up and eat I end up bingeing and have to purge.

2. What is your typical caloric intake?

Sunday – fast, Monday – 50, Tuesday – 100, Wednesday – 150, Thursday – 100, Friday – 50, Saturday – fast.

3. How long have you been participating in these behaviors?

Years, 5 years ago I was diagnosed Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS) and two years ago I got full Anorexia diagnosis.

4. Are you willing to commit to recovery?

Fine, sure, whatever.

Part of me doesn't want to forget Allwyth, so I guess I'll write down what it's like because I was told we can have these when we finish our program.

I'm in room 13, in Women's Wing 2. It's a specialty wing for people women who hurt themselves in any way. ED, SI, suicide and the like. There are two other wings, but I haven't learned about them yet. There are no scales in the open, just the two in the health station. My room has a bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. There's a window with bars on it, but no door – only a curtain. Every room is like this, I'm told. I think I'm going to hate it here. Group therapy tomorrow, both guys and girls.

Rules Excerpt:

Men and women will not be allowed to have unsupervised contact.  
Men are not allowed in the women's wings, and women not allowed in the men's.  
Romantic relationships between patients are discouraged, and one's between patients and Allwyth staff are strictly prohibited.

There, I read them.

I wonder who else is here that I might know. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.


	3. As Fate Would Have It

_**n: **_**Well, this installment came about fast, now didn't it. The definition below is from the dictionary on Yahoo. The quote before Ginny's journal (in ch.1) is from the Bible, and Draco's is from Broken by Seether featuring Amy Lee. No journals for this one, just point of view. **

_**

* * *

**_

_**group therapy **__(noun)_

_A form of psychotherapy that involves sessions guided by a therapist and attended by several clients who confront their personal problems together. The interaction among clients is considered to be an integral part of the therapeutic process._

September 7

— Ginny's Point of View —

Group therapy is held in a small room just off of what could be called Allwyth's living room. There are no chairs set up when I walk in, but there are fifteen cushions in a ring on the floor. I'm greeted by a man in jeans and a t-shirt, how professional. For some reason I think I might just actually like him, he doesn't seem as stuffy as all the other staff. He tells me to have a seat and goes out to look for the others. I find one next to the door (just in case I need to make a quick exit) and flop down, watching people slowly drift in. A girl with silver hair who looks thinner than I am asks me if I'm saving the seat next to me. I shrug and she sits, curling up like a kitten. A few more people enter; a few are actually carrying stuffed animals. "How childish" I think to myself. It's then that I notice Him. Him, with his white blonde hair and piercing eyes. Him, with bandages covering his arms from wrist to elbow. But it couldn't be Him…could it?

—Draco's Point of View—

I notice Her before she notices me. It has to be Her. Red hair, freckles, it just has to be Ginny. She looks so…fragile. Like she'd snap if you sneezed at her. I try to hide myself behind one of the guys from my wing, but she sees me. Too late for hiding. I sigh and give her a nod of recognition, which she returns slowly, and take my seat on the other side of the room. The man who greeted us at the door comes in, shutting the door behind him.

"Hello and welcome to group. I recognize a few faces around here, and while I love seeing you again I guess I just didn't want to see you back here. For those of you who are new here, my name is Zak and I'm the head psychologist in group. Usually we also have Katja, one of the female psychologists, here with us but she's taking a personal day. Anyways, now that you all know me I want everyone to go around and introduce themselves. How about you start, Karyn?" he says, looking to the first girl on his left. She's got electric blue hair, a few piercing, and looks like she doesn't want to be here.

"I'm Karyn, I'm seventeen, and I've been at Allwyth for a week." She retreats back into herself as the next person begins. A boy. "I'm Xav I'm sixteen, and I've been here for three days." Each person takes as little time as possible, I catch a few names but pay no real attention until someone gives me a nudge and whispers that it's my turn.

"I'm Draco, I'm twenty, and this is my second day here." I look at my shoes. I look at Her. I look at my shoes. I feel old.

—Ginny—

It is Him, there's no denying that now. It's weird, though, us being in the same place, admitted on the same day. Fate? Who knows? I only half listen to everyone's names. If you don't know someone's name you can't get close to them. The girl next to me introduces herself as Ana. Fits her well, considering she looks anorexic. She pulls out a small stuffed lion and introduces him as Fred. I can't believe she'd name a child's toy.

" Um, I'm Ginny, eighteen but I'll be nineteen soon, second day here." He looks at me as if to acknowledge that we were here on the same day. Zak speaks. I listen.

"Now that we have all that crap out of the way, we can get to the point of group. Allwyth provides group therapy to allow patients to mingle and so you can learn you're not alone. As you now know, everyone here fits into a sixteen to twenty years old age bracket. I don't expect a twelve year old to understand your problems just as much as I don't expect you to understand a thirty year old's, which is why we spilt you all up. Since today is the first day of group I want to keep it a little lighter than usual, but we do need to get something done. How does everyone feel about explaining why they're here?"

Everyone mumbles a "fine" and Zak smiles. "Glad to see I have a very awake group. Usually I don't even get a reply, more just snores. " I guess it was just the thing we needed to hear, because everyone began to laugh. "Who wants to go first?" Ana raises her hand and Zak gives her a small wood piece. I assume it's some sort of talking piece, if you have it you can speak, if you don't shut the hell up.

"Coming here was a personal choice. I guess I finally realized I was starving myself to death and I needed help to stop. Although, I'm sure my parents would have shoved me here anyway if I didn't make the choice on my own. I'm here to recover from anorexia." She tosses the chip to a boy across from her. David, I think his name was. "My parent's made this choice after I tried to hang myself. They saw the diagnosis of "severely depressed, suicidal" and packed my bags for Allwyth." The piece gets tossed to Draco.

—Draco—

David throws the chip into my lap. He's the only person I've bothered to get to know in my wing, but that's just because we share a bathroom. I hold out my arms so everyone can see. "I'm sure that explains it all, but if not I guess I'll elaborate. I'm a self-injurer, cutter to be exact. I'm here because my mom begged me to come, thinking I was suicidal. I tried to explain that I'm not, but it's kind of hard to convince someone of that when it looks like I tried to knock myself off." I look around to see who I want to toss it to. My first instinct is to find out why Ginny is here, even though it is painfully obvious. Oh well, best throw it soon before time's up. I land it right in her lap.

"I'm here because I hate food. Parents found out I wasn't eating, caught me throwing up in the bathroom and sent me here. I didn't feel like disagreeing or fighting about it, so I just agreed. I'm anorexic with bulimic tendencies."

I had a feeling that was the case. Zak announces that time's up, but we have a few minutes to mingle and talk with each other. He gets up and leaves. I walk over to her and she greets me with an awkward hug. I can feel every rib, her shoulder blades, her spine. I almost feel like crying. Guess old feelings don't like to die. She brushes her hand along my bandaged arm, and it feels just a little less painful.

"Good to see you again," she says with a small smile "It's been too long."

"Yeah, I guess it has. But then again, it's not our faults. We'd have been killed if we were seen together. Now that the war is over and the darkness gone…" I pause.

"We're free to do wish." Damn, I'm glad she can still read my mind. She's always been able to do that. "See anyone else we know around here?"

I shake my head no, and she snuggles a little closer. Zak comes and gives us a questioning look. I mouth that we're friends and he nods a bit. I notice a woman is following him, slumped into herself like she's carrying great shame on her back.

"Ok, group. It looks like we just got a new member. If I could have everyone's attention, I'll let her introduce herself." Zak takes the girl's hand and leads her forward. She lifts her head and looks right at Ginny and I. I know her from somewhere.

"My name is Hermione. I'm nineteen. I just got here."

I look from Hermione to Ginny. Ginny looks at me with the same confused, shocked, horrified look that I have on my face. Zak seems to catch this exchange and calls us forward.

"Group is dismissed."


	4. Tears From Nowhere

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read, and twice the thanks to those who have left a response. They make me happy. --Anything after the quote that is in Italics is a thought--

It is impossible for us to break the law. We can only break ourselves against the law. – Cecil B. Demille

Hermione –

I am in my room. A rectangular box that they moved me to an hour ago. I miss the detox area. There's a man in my doorway. His name's Zak, I met him a few days ago when they assessed me. He's the only person I know aside from the staff in detox. He motions for me to come with him. He speaks. I stare at the floor as I walk. He's holding my hand like a baby. "I'm taking you to my group therapy session for a minute. It's almost over, but there needs to be someone in charge at all times. I'm really sorry, Hermione. I know you just woke up from a long night. Ok, we're almost here. Just say your name, how old you are, and that you just got here. Can you do that?"

_My head hurts. Too many people. Too many people. Zak, take me to my room. I don't want to be here anymore._ _Did he just say something? Yeah, he did…I'll say yes. _

I mumble a yes as we round the corner. There are people, about my age. _It could be worse_ my mind tells me; _he could be bringing you to a bunch of old people. _Zak gives a small speech that I pay no attention to until he leads me forward. I take it as my cue to

introduce myself. I find two people to stare at - a red haired girl and an ice blonde boy. _Oh, wait, those two look familiar. Why do they look so familiar?_

"My name is Hermione. I'm nineteen. I just got here."

The two look at me like they've just seen a ghost. I must be a right mess. I wish someone would give me a mirror. I'm not allowed a mirror. They say it would hinder my recovery. Zak motions them forward. They come. _I feel sick. Where do I know them from?_

"Group is dismissed." He says.

He stands there for a minute, looking at each of the kids before him. "Hermione, I'd like to introduce you to two of our patients here: Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy."

_I do know them…Ginny…that can't be her. She's so…frail. _ I hug the twig that is Ginny. She looks only a fraction of what she was when I knew her. She was never a heavy girl, just curvy. I knew she wanted to lose weight at one point but this…this is insane. Draco puts his hand on my arm and I realize I'm crying. I step away from Ginny and collapse into Zak's shoulder, sobbing pathetically. _Why am I crying? _

— Ginny —

She looks so old, not like the young woman she is. There is no glow to her eyes, no hint of the Hermione I knew. She's a shell of her former self and I hate seeing it. I watch her as she cries, not knowing what I'm supposed to do. I don't know who she is anymore. We haven't seen each other since Harry, Ron and Neville's deaths. My boyfriend, my brother, and the unknown hero – all seventeen years old at the time of death. Draco nearly died fighting on our side. I always knew he was good, but no one believed me. She pulls away from Zak, eyes still filled with tears. No one speaks. It's awkward. I speak.

"Um, hey, Hermione, um, long time. You look…um…" I can't help but think about how big of an ass I must sound. She wipes her eyes a bit and laughs.

"Yeah, it's been a while Ginn. And I know I probably look like crap, but life's been rough." She reached and gently rested a hand on Draco's arm. "You two do look too great yourselves."

At this we chuckle, half because it's awkward being together and half because we know she's right in a way. Zak shifts a bit, obviously unsure as to what to make of all this.

"I'm sorry you three, but time's up and you need to get back to your rooms." He looks at us sympathetically. Again, I get that odd feeling that I might just like this guy. We nod in acknowledgement. "Ginny, Hermione will have the room next to yours. If you could please show her how to get to it…" his voice trails off as I nod again. Draco gives me another hug, this time more sure and warming. I feel happy. How much have I missed those? Oh too, too much. He gives Hermione one too, and I take her hand.

"Good bye, Draco." Those words kill me so.

"Good bye, Ginny. Good bye, Hermione."

"Good bye." She mutters back to him.

He leaves. We leave. Hermione's hand grips mine, like a child would to its mother. I can tell she's scared.

"It's ok, I'm here." I speak softly. "This here is the fastest route to our rooms. I can't tell you much about the rooms around you because I'm still learning where everything is myself. There's a map in your room though. Best to keep it handy if you're off by yourself." I point to a largeish room with a window. "This is the Nurses' Office. You'll get your meds from the window. Just give them your name and they'll give you everything you need." We keep walking, me talking about the different areas I know and her looking up from her feet only when I point to a room. "We've entered Women's Wing 2, which is where our rooms are located. We're over here." I guide her to the room next to mine. Sure enough, a name sign is already outside her door. Must have put it up during group. "Here's you room and mine is the one to the left. Feel free to stop by any time."

We sit on her bed. No one talks.

—Hermione—

I can't handle the silence for much longer. I look at her, Ginny – lovely, beautiful Ginny.

"I need some one to talk to." She smiles and nods as if to say – Go ahead, I'm listening.

"I got here a few days ago. They had me in detox to help me come off all the vodka. I messed up bad, Ginn. Messed up real bad." I pull my knees to my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. It grew to be too much and I broke. I fucking broke." Oh no, I feel the burn of tears again. I don't even try to fight it. I cry and Ginny hold me while I cry. We sit like that for what felt like an eternity, me crying and her whispering that it'll be ok. A nurse nocks on the wall outside the curtain.

"Is everything ok in here? I heard crying."

"Yeah, just needed a good cry."

"Well, if you want someone to talk to the therapist is open."

"Thanks."

People here seem really nice and genuine. I like them. I dry my eyes and laugh. For what reason, I'm not sure, but Ginny laughs with me. For once I feel just a little bit happier, like a little hole is filled. Ginny grabs my schedule and looks it over.

"You have an appointment for individual in a few minutes. Best get you over there." She smiles and I take her hand as we exit the room. No, not the room. My room.


	5. Say X Amount Of Words

_Relapse prevent  
Trigger intent  
Now drown_

_High strung_

_Say X amount of words_

Ginny walks me to one of the few doors in this place. She knocks for me, gives me a brief hug and walks back to her room.

"Why hello Hermione, my name is Doctor Radcliffe. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable." I sit cross-legged in a leather chair that is placed just a bit to the Dr.'s left. It's squishy, which I didn't expect. I like it. "Now, Miss Granger, today I just want you to say what comes to mind. Say anything, anything at all so long as you're talking. Feel free to begin when you choose to." With that he takes out a notebook and appears to get comfortable himself. I study him for a minute, my eyes tracing his crisp cut hair in a shade of brown like no other, following down a lock to his eyes in a shade of blue-green that reminds me of the ocean. I study the rest of his face noticing that while he is not young, he is still handsome. The small wrinkles that have developed through the years add a charm to him that only weathered men have. But those eyes, I can't seem to keep my mind off them. They remind me of my first lover, the one who I gave my virginity to….

"He was a beautiful man of 17, with raven hair and eyes of the same shade as yours. I thought I was in love, and at the tender age of 15 how was I to know any better? His name was Raphael; I met him in France when my parents sent me to be with my aunt for the summer. He was my aunt's serve-boy, as she called him, working for her while he attended summer classes at the university. He became my friend first, showing me Paris like never before. We explored the town, leaning about life and what not. Then one day he asked if I wanted to go back to his special place. It was marvelous. A small secluded nook with walls on four sides on the outskirts of town. He had placed blankets and pillows in the center, a small basket off to the side, and flowers were laying everywhere. And then he kissed me ever so softly. His hand warmed the side of my cheek and in that instant he had me under his complete control. Well, one thing lead to another and to spare you all the details, we had sex. It hurt at first, but I liked…a lot. So we continued our little affair, going to his place at least three times a week to have sex. He introduced me to so many things that year…" I broke off. I couldn't say any more. I couldn't tell him about what happened when my aunt found out. About the pain she caused. When I found out I was not his only love. And the child. My child. Our child. My child. Oh, my baby. I never knew her. I miscarried. I cry.

The doctor handed me a tissue, and slowly I came back to reality. I'm in the therapist's office. I'm at Allwyth. I'm safe. "Miss Granger, I think that will do for today. Unless, of course, there is more you wish to talk about." His voice is kind, but still I shake my head no. "I'll page a nurse when you feel ready to leave. Just let me know." I smile though the tears and we sit in silence. Five minutes pass and the tears stop. I ask him to page the nurse. She's pretty, with blond hair and a sweet smile. She brings me to my room. I like it here.

Draco

I want to cut. I want to feel the blade on my skin. I want blood and pain and numbness. I'll feel better when I cannot feel. I scratch at my hand. It helps a little. "Mr. Malfoy, would you please not do that in my office?" Shit. I forgot I'm in my therapist's office. "I'm sorry Dr. Danile. I'll try not to let it happen again." He laughs. "It's ok. Would you like to tell me why you feel the need to injure right now?" I half-smile.

"I hate therapy. Talking about myself bothers me to the highest degree."

"I could understand. I'm the same way."

"But you're a therapist…" He laughs.

"I only have to listen to others. No need to talk about myself." I laugh a little and pull my sleeve down. "Now, can I ask you to tell me some things that trigger you to injury?"

"Yeah, I guess. Stress is a big one. Anger too. Pain, like emotional and shit like that. My mommy dearest. Feeling helpless. Then there are times when I'm happy, like really fucking happy so I create a scar to remember it. Sometimes there's really no trigger at all, I just get bored and do it." I look about his office, which resembles the stereotypical therapist's office. Leather chair, couch, and book shelves. You name it. The carpet is a deep brown. I like it; it makes me feel warm inside. The urges go away. "Is there any way I can get this carpet in my room? I like the color." He laughs. I notice that he laughs a lot. "I'll see what I can do. But our time is up. Do you remember how to get to your room?" I nod yes and leave. As I walk through the halls I don't feel as hopeless, which is a big thing. I'm so used to feeling hopeless. I look at the clock and realize it is dinnertime. Food sounds so good right now. I wonder if Ginny and Hermione eat in the cafeteria. I hope Ginny eats. She needs to. I hate what that disorder did to her.

Mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and gravy. Sounds rather plain, but it tastes so good. The food is practically gourmet here. No boxed potatoes, kitchen duty peels and boils them themselves. I load up my tray for the second time, inhaling mouthful after mouthful. Ginny isn't here. Hermione is. She's eating. I wonder where Ginny is. I miss her for some reason.

I go back to my room and stare at the ceiling. I write:

_It was years ago. Funny that I'm thinking of her now. Funny meting her here. She made this SI worse. Yeah, sure I cut before her. But after her, all bets were off. The sight of her hair, her scent, her laugh, all became triggers. Damn Potter! I smiled and acted like all was fucking ok, like I could care less that she dropped me like old trash when he came back. She acts like everything's ok. I say nothing. Why should I, her boyfriend died fighting. I tried to save him, even though I loathed the son-of-a-bitch, I tried to fucking save him. It's more than he'd ever do for me. Till the moment he died he still thought I was a spy. Me? Work for Voldemort? No, never. After Potter died I left. Ginny was a wreck that didn't want me around. She said I reminded her of "all the good times they shared"…_

I put my pen down. I cry.

AN:/ Happy Halloween guys and ghouls! So not as angsty as I would have hoped, but oh well. The first italics are from "X Amount Of Words" by the lovely and talented Blue October. I take no credit. Many of you have suggested that this seems like a non-magic fic...I'm not sure if I'll include magic or not. You'll just have to see.


	6. A Note Of Notes AN

Author's note:

Since it has been so long since I've updated I figured I should probably explain why.

_Three _was brought to life while I was struggling with some of the same things the characters are. Since then, I entered treatment myself and began the slow steps of recovery. As much as I would love to continue writing _Three _since it is one of my favorite stories, I just am not comfortable re-visiting those thoughts and feelings while fighting for recovery myself. There's a certain dark place I'd have to return to because the original trail of thought stemmed from being in that form of hell.

Out of concern for my own wellbeing, I've decided to leave _Three_ how it is – incomplete. I considered puling the story completely to be filed away in some small dusty corner of my laptop but felt leaving it up in honor of the thought it is was a better course of action. Maybe, when I'm more secure in myself, I'll pick it back up and write the rest of the tale.

Thank you to everyone who has read and replied. I'm truly thankful for it.

– Felicia


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